


Taken

by Marshmallowbuttons



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Animal Play, Creampie, Deepthroating, Heavy Petting, Kidnapping, Lolicon, Mindbreak, Multi, Tentacles, Toys, Watersports, feeder, mob, non-con, straight loli, stranger danger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:42:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallowbuttons/pseuds/Marshmallowbuttons
Summary: Little Futaba goes home from school and encounters men in a van.She has a lot of adventures!





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like this fic. I've had a long absence, but now I'm back.  
> Please look forward to more! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Another day without Mommy picking her up from school. But it was fine. She grew accustomed to this sort of thing. At eight-years of age, Futaba was an experienced latchkey kid. Not too far from her home, Futaba walked to and from home and school every day. If she had enough money, she’d go to the convenience store and buy a hot meal for dinner. If she didn’t, there were a lot of frozen meals to choose from at home.

Today, unfortunately, was one of the microwave meal days. Futaba missed the days when her mother would make home-cooked meals. Her mother had a knack for it, curry being her specialty. Futaba loved the delicious aroma of spices wafting from the kitchen, sizzling vegetables and savory chicken. Every bite exploded flavor on her tongue and engorged until her tummy was full. Futaba could proudly say her mother was the best cook in the world! 

But those microwave meals? They weren’t bad, but they weren’t Mommy’s food. Futaba wished her mother would stop obsessing over work and come home at better hours. It would be until the late evening - almost midnight - until her mother arrived. This habit repeated daily with no sign of ending. 

Children raced past Futaba, bumping into her while their concerned mothers scurried by to catch up to her children. Others walked with their mothers, hand-in-hand and chatted about their day and what they learned at school. Mothers gushed over the artworks their children gave them or the good grades presented. Some even had fathers pick them up from school and piggyback them on the way to their vehicle or to the train station.

Head low, shoulders slumped, backpack held tight, Futaba continued her journey back home. The less she saw the easier the trek would be, though the heavy lump in her throat proved difficult to swallow.

Perhaps next time Mommy can pick her up. All she had to do was ask her! Just once? Futaba didn’t want to make her mother mad or disappointed, but one time couldn’t hurt, right?

A few more houses down and she’d be home! Futaba reached into her necklace and pulled out the attached key. Her Neo Featherman watch read 15:30; she had enough time to get comfy, gather some snacks, and watch her favorite show. First would be the cute magical girl anime, then the mecha show, until finally Neo Featherman. She couldn’t wait to see the latest adventures of her beloved superheroes! 

Futaba skipped to the front door, jumping dramatically and landed with a signature Neo Featherman pose. A shadow appeared in front of the door. 

If she opened the door, the shadowy figure would be able to come in and steal her home. She couldn’t ignore the presence for long.

The shadow cleared their throat. It sounded like a man.

Futaba sucked in her cheeks and took a deep breath.  _ You got this Futaba. You got this! Now or never! _

The child startled when there was not one, nor two, but  _ three _ tall men wearing black suits and sunglasses in front of her. The largest of the bunch bent over to be at the same eye level, but failed as he was far too big to ever be as low as the little Futaba.

“Futaba Isshiki?”

“Y-yes?” she gulped.

The man nodded. “You’re coming with us right now.”

“H-huh!?”

The second tallest man grasped Futaba’s arm, the force making the girl almost lose her footing. He used his other arm to hoist her back up. Try as she could, Futaba’s attempts to escape were useless under the man’s powerful strength. Words were trapped in her mouth. No cries for help or screaming. No shouts or screeches to alert any bystanders of these men taking her away. Her body rigid in fear as they led her into a white van.

The third man sat beside her and wrapped a blindfold over her tear-stained eyes. He wiped away the drops that rolled down her cheeks. “Little girls don’t cry.” He tied her hands together, his hands fastened the seatbelt onto Futaba and patted her head.

Futaba jumped and whipped her head from his touch. Mouth quivering, tears continued to flow as the vehicle started.

“Do you know where to go?”

“Yeah. I got the address. Make sure the girl is safe. The boss has plans for her.”


	2. Creamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futaba finally gets what's coming to her!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the moment you've all been waiting for! Futaba is going to get cream pied HARD. (*/ω＼)

How could this be happening? This was supposed to be a normal day. Arrive to an empty house, reheat the frozen meal of her choice, and gorge on snacks while watching her favorite TV shows. After homework, if she felt awake enough, she'd wait for Mommy's arrival around midnight and kiss her goodnight. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

But not this. Not ever this.

Why did this bad thing happen to her? What were these men going to do? She got her answer as soon as one man chuckled and removed her school shoes. Her legs thrashed about from his touch. A strong pair of hands held her legs together while the other man removed her socks. 

“Stay still if you know that’s good for you,” the man who held her legs growled. “You deserve this.”

Smooth fabric slid up her legs, first on the left then to the right. A firm hardness pressed against her feet. Tiny ministrations tickled at the side of her feet. 

Were those... new shoes?

“We almost there?”

“Yeah, it’s a couple of blocks away. Make sure she’s ready for the boss.”

“Too bad we couldn’t get this one on,” the man to her left lamented. 

“She moves too much,” huffed the man to her right. “Make you take her phone from her backpack. Can’t let that go unattended.”

Fresh tears saturated the blindfold. The only way to seek help and call her Mommy was going to disappear. Rarely the one to use the phone for calling, her mother texted Futaba to check up on her during her break times. With these awful men taking a hold of her phone, they could easily pretend to be her and tell Mommy she was fine. But she wouldn’t be fine. This “boss” was going to make sure of it. 

Would they sell her to bad people and make her clean homes? Perhaps take her organs and leave her body in Tokyo Bay? Maybe even take her to a different country, far away from anyone who could speak her language, far from anyone willing to help, far from Mommy, the only person who loved her dearly.

Wakaba lectured Futaba about the dangers of speaking to strangers. She never went into full detail of the terrible things they’d do, however she made sure to tell her about slavery and the other horrors. Whenever she came close to talking about her body, her mother became silent, face solemn, eyes cast downwards. 

“Just know that it’s bad. Your body is very precious, Futaba. You have to protect it with all your might because there are people who want to take your purity.”

“Why Mommy?”

“Because they are evil. You musn’t let bad people touch you.”

Futaba bit her lip. If she weren’t so selfish and wished for Mommy to be at her side this would not be happening. She’d be at home - like a good girl should - and watch her TV shows and do what Mommy told her. At night, Mommy would kiss Futaba’s forehead and sleep in her own room, or sometimes carry Futaba to her bedroom and sleep with her daughter. Those were the best sleeps Futaba had. Going to school felt like the easiest task when Mommy spent the night with her.

But there would be none of that anymore: Boss was going to be in charge of her now. 

Why did those men touch her legs like that? What in the world did they put on her? Was it slave shoes or special socks to identify her as chattel?

“I…” Futaba sobbed. “I want my Mommy!”

“Shh, shhh…” Lefty soothed. His arm wrapped itself around Futaba’s small frame and rocked her body in gentle motions. “It’s going to be okay. You’re a brave girl.”

“This is so fucked up,” said the driver.

“The money’s good,” answered Righto. “Just get her to stop crying already!”

“Don’t yell at her, idiot. If Boss finds out, you’ll be in the streets.”

Righto’s hand patted Futaba’s head. She squeaked and sought purchase towards Lefty. At least he tried to make her feel better, even if he was going to sell her. If she used her cuteness, would he have mercy and let her go?

Lefty laughed. “Damn, how do you expect to welcome your own kid when you scare this cute girl?”

“Hmph! I’m trying, aren’t I? Little girl, you need to stop being such a whiner! You deserve what’s coming for you, so just take it!”

Futaba shrieked. “Mommy help me!”

“Stop making her cry!” yelled the driver. The car stopped. “She’s going to make a scene outside at this point! I swear, Boss is going to fuck us up and it’ll be your fucking fault. Get her ready! We’re already here!”

Two pairs of hands touched her body, expertly untying her hands and removed the seat belt, and pulled her tiny body out the car. Though blinded, the bright sun managed to shine through her blindfold as one of the men carried her to their destination. 

She let out a small sound, but it wasn’t enough to alert anyone. Her voice died in her throat, accepting its fate in the arms of the big man. Futaba wanted to kick and make a ruckus, yet her body also came to the same conclusion. It was hopeless. These men were big, strong, and would find a way to chase her to wherever. They’d sell her to any crusty homeless person in the street and she’d never see her mother again. 

“I’m so sorry, Mommy,” she sniffed on the man’s shoulder. “I was a bad girl.”

A cheerful jingle and the cool breeze of air conditioning surrounded Futaba. Cutesy music played in the background while smells of delicious breads wafted through her nose. Just where did these men take her?

The man put her down, his heavy hands pressed into her shoulders, a warning of bad things to come should she scream or run. 

“Please take off the blindfold, Futaba-chan,” said the man Futaba identified as Lefty.

With shaking hands, Futaba reached behind her head and felt a knot. No words of protest or any increased pressure on her shoulders when she loosened it and pulled the blindfold from over her face. The light scalded her eyes, water rushed through to shield them from the brightness. After adjusting to the change, Futaba opened her eyes to find a bright pink and rainbowed blindfold in her hands.

Was  _ that  _ what those men used to cover her eyes!?

A young, pretty lady dressed as a fancy maid bowed in front of her. “Welcome, Futaba-chan! We’ve been waiting for you!”

Futaba jumped. Where in the world did these men take her!? The room had baroque furniture along the walls, covered in various shades of dusky pink decorations, white and beige trimmings, stars, and crystal chandeliers above several small, circular tables. The chairs were mismatched in shape and upholstery, though blended well with the backgrounds and the golden candelabra or lamp centerpieces. Various vases with fragrant peonies and lily-of-the-valley were on top of the bookshelves filled with antique tea sets and plush animals. 

This was the Prim Princess Cafe Futaba always wanted to go to! Her mother tried many times to take her there, but no matter how early they arrived, there was a long line of people waiting. Too young to tolerate the hot sun and the wait, the two left, defeated, to another place to eat and have fun. Her mother looked disappointed every time they left. Decor aside, the Prim Princess Cafe also boasted among the best pastries in Japan. Japanese pâtissiers training exclusively from France and their chocolatiers from Switzerland. The menu rotated each month - some popular items remained in the regular menu - enticing people to come visit and see what was new. Reviews raved. People bragged. Lines overflowed. Reservations booked for months. Pastries were outsold. 

This was the place any little girl - or anyone for that matter - wanted to experience. And Futaba was there.

The maid pointed down. “Those shoes are so cute!”

Futaba followed where her finger pointed. Pink leather Mary Janes with a cute bow on the buckle adorned her feet while silk knee-socks with pink hearts were on her legs. 

They were adorable! Where did they come from?

The man behind her made a satisfied sound. 

Holding out her hand, the maid smiled. “Let’s go to your table, Futaba-chan! We have a special princess chair waiting for you!”

“F-for me?” Futaba twiddled her thumbs. “W-wow…”

“You deserve it,” said Righto, beside her.

She took the maid’s hand and followed her inside the fancy cafe. The table was at the far end of the restaurant, warm natural light from the windows glowing onto the table and its flowered vase. A single chandelier made of gold and crystals - the only one in the cafe - hung above. The chair in question was large, tufted and embroidered in expensive threads and elegant patterns. Above the top rail contained a small nameplate.

FUTABA, it read in Roman letters and fancy calligraphy. 

“You get to sit right here.”

So impressed with her surroundings, Futaba didn’t notice the tall, scary man sitting at her table. Unlike the other men who kidnapped her, this guy wore sleek, shaded lenses instead of black sunglasses, and his suit contained no tie. In fact, whatever he wore was nothing like the other men. Not a uniform, rather his natural attire. 

And he was bald.

Very bald. 

“Um… excuse me mister?”

The distinguished man looked at Futaba. 

“Are you in the right t-table?”

“Yes,” he said, voice smooth. “I am.”

Futaba’s cheeks burned. “O-okay.” She crawled into the chair and sat. It bounced underneath her movement.

“Would you like to order now?” asked the maid. 

“Um, I don’t know?”

Another maid came by with a plate full of colorful macarons. “Have these in the meantime.”

Futaba looked at the man who seemed preoccupied with the menu the first maid gave him. She slowly reached into the plate, eyes shifted back and forth to the scary man and the macarons. Once she picked out a purple one, she snatched and plopped it into her mouth. A burst of lavender on her tongue, almost as if she ran through a field and bit into the plant. 

“Yummy!” She reached for another cookie, this time a mellowed orange color. The subtle flavor reminded her of the sweet teas her mother made her during the weekends. “Ooh, honey!” 

The bald man called for the maid and made his order, eyes observing Futaba’s happy wiggles and animated tasting. Such a sweet child. 

A maid poured tea into porcelain cups, placing sugar and cream containers to the side. 

Futaba stretched out her arm for sugar. However her little fingers were inches away from the spoon. The bald man grabbed the spoon, holding it over her cup.

“How many?”

The little girl squirmed in her chair. “Three p-please?”

The man grimaced. “That’s too much.” But complied anyway, stirring the sugar. “Cream?”

She nodded. 

He poured cream into her cup.

“Okay that’s good!” Her face lit up. “That’s a lot of cream!”

“Well that’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yup. I like a lot of cream! In my tummy!”

He chuckled. “Good girl. You need a lot of milk to grow big and strong.”

“Yes!” Futaba flexed her arms. “I’m gonna be the biggest and the strongest!”

“Guys, she’s so cute,” said the driver. He sat at a table near the entrance. “She reminds me of my daughter when she was her age.”

Food arrived in the form of a two-towered tray of pastries and cold cuts. The top layer were cheeses and meats. The bottom were savory treats consisting of vegetable tarts, quiche lorraine, meaty hand pies, and cheesy pasties. Futaba served herself one of each pastry, engorging in the flavorful treats. Her mother was a great cook - when she had the time, and not to be mean but these were better than any of the baked goods she made. Every bite as exciting as the last. 

The man mainly ate the exotic cuts and cheeses, occasionally reaching for a meat pie to accompany his meal. He said nothing as he ate, though Futaba would feel unnerved and noticed him staring at her from time to time. Shrinking into the plush chair and putting her food down, the man would get the hint and continue his supper. Once his eyes concentrated on the food, Futaba went back to eating. She wished her mother could be here. Mommy wanted to go to the Prim Princess Cafe for a long time. Not just for Futaba but for herself. Futaba knew Mommy loved sweets and dreamed of feeling like a fancy lady dining in the best cafe Tokyo had to offer. 

She gulped the quiche hard. 

“Are you okay?” asked the man.

Futaba sniffed. “I’m fine…”

The maid came up to Futaba with a plate of a specialty dessert. “This is our famous butterscotch cream pie. Enjoy, Futaba-chan!”

“Is this cream pie for me, mister?”

The man nodded. “Of course. This is all for you. Do you see other customers here?”

He was right. The entire cafe was devoid of any people except the three big men and the staff. Just them, the scary man, and herself. How in the world did this happen? Why her?

She shook her head. 

“Eat up then.”

Futaba smelled the treat. Sweet and buttery. Poking a curious finger, Futaba licked the cream. Delicious! She forked a large piece and chewed it with glee. Despite the butterscotch’s sweetness, the cream contained the right amount of sugar to combat the bottom filling. A perfect dessert to end the tasty meal!

The maid served black coffee to the bald man and a cafe au lait with light sugar to Futaba. She cringed at the bitter coffee.

“Drink it with your pie,” he said. 

It worked, though she wished it had a little more sugar. Mommy would have let her have tons more!

A gentle hand touched her cheek. Her body startled with a squeak, frozen in her tracks, unsure of what changed. Was this it? Was he going to touch her in bad places now? Call her pretty and take her to his home?

The man wiped her face with a napkin. “You had some cream on your face.”

“O-oh!” Hands hid her face. How could she be so careless! He must have thought she was some sort of little kid! “Th-thank you mister!”

As they finished up their food, the bald man signaled his men to the table. Lefty placed the blindfold over her eyes. Petrified, Futaba let the men carry her away into the car. Tears rolled down her eyes, here it was. The moment she knew was coming.

“I-I just wanna go home!” she cried.

When she opened her eyes, she met a familiar door: her house door.

The van screeched away.

Futaba looked back where the van once was. Beautiful pink shoes remained on her feet.

The reversed back. Righto opened the side door and threw her uniform shoes at the doorway. He pointed a threatening finger, eyes narrowed. “And don’t tell your mother anything! OR ELSE.”

“And we’ll know you told her!” the driver added from the window. 

Again, the van disappeared, this time for good. At least Futaba hoped it did. 

“What the hell just happened!?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wakaba came home early and they had curry for dinner. But Futaba's little tummy was too full from all that cream pie. °˖✧◝(〃＾▽＾〃)◜✧˖°

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no I wonder what will happen to poor little Futaba... (ノωヽ)


End file.
